


Whiskey Nightmares

by MsRandelyn



Series: Push Me Away, Pull Me Back In [2]
Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, M/M, Moment of Weakness, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 22:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1062442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsRandelyn/pseuds/MsRandelyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glenn is at his breaking point. He can't handle the how he's been feeling anymore, and he misses the warmth he once had to hold on to. He lets himself selfishly take comfort in the form of a bottle and a warm body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whiskey Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZombieIcePick](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieIcePick/gifts).



> This was not quite inspired by, but written to the song "Wings" by Birdy. This is a sequel to my story Poisoned Memories, but could probably be read on it's own. 
> 
> Well, here we are again my dear friend, I hope you enjoy it. I'm sorry I made you wait so long.

There's a weight pressing down on the other side of the shabby bunk bed and the movement is enough to rouse the Korean from his light sleep. He doesn't open his eyes, and doesn't roll over. Not letting himself fall completely back to sleep he shifts just the smallest bit and waits patiently like always.

He can hear the loud clunk of boots hitting the ground echoing in the small cell. The shuffling of clothes follows and he hears them hit the ground too. The covers behind him move and a warm body slides in behind his own. He's being pulled closer as the warmth covers his entire back. Glenn smiles sleepily as a strong arm wraps around his waist and a work roughened hand starts to rub small circles across his stomach. The warm spreading across his back calms him and the urge ease back into the world of dreams gets stronger.

Just as he's about to succumb to sleep the hand on his stomach slowly works it's way up his body with a feather light touch as it works it's way to his chest. He feels his bedmate's face carefully burry itself in the side of his neck and a warm breath floats along his skin. He feels the familiar scratch of facial hair as a gentle kiss is left on his neck. The Korean lets out a tired hum and lets his smile grow larger. Something as simple as soaking in the warmth of another body feels too good to explain.

Deep down feels the desperate need to stay here forever and hold on to this feeling. Somewhere inside his sleep fogged mind he knows this won't last forever, but he doesn't waste any time trying to understand why. He doesn't bother chasing the dark thoughts at the back of his mind. Glenn runs his hand up his own body until his hand meets another. Their fingers lace together without hesitance and the body behind him is somehow brought closer to his with the contact.

A warmth begins to fill his chest with every warm breath he feels against his skin. He presses himself back against the other man's strong chest and presses their bodies together from head to toe. There's no space left between them and that's just how he likes it. It's how it should be.

Always.

They stay silently pressed together for a long stretch of time and just as Glenn starts to think the older man has fallen asleep he feels those lips on his neck again. They feel different this time. They linger longer and they leave a heat behind even once the contact is gone. He feels the itch of facial hair trailing across his skin. Another kiss is pressed to his shoulder. This one is pressed into his skin much rougher than the last.

It makes him shiver.

He can feel the tip of his the other man's nose sliding gently along his upper back before he pauses to press more kisses to the heated flesh beneath his lips. The smaller man leans back and their bodies get pressed further into the mattress as they settle further into it. There is a tingling left behind on his skin as the hunter trails his lips back into the warmth of his neck. The kisses aren't as gentle now. They turn into sucking little bites here and there.

There are going to be marks there by morning.

Glenn squeezes his eyes shut tighter and lets out a low moan of approval at the thought of having the hunter's marks staining his body. His skin is starting to crawl with impatience. He shifts to try to release the pressure inside of him, but it doesn't work. It only seems to make the feeling worse. Rough fingers slowly untangle themselves from his smaller ones and that hand starts to make it's way back to where it started. It pauses low on his stomach and he feels blunt nails scrape across the taught flesh there. It's only then he realizes his stomach is tense. There's the loud sound of breathing. It takes longer than it should for him to figure out that it is coming from him.

The hand on his skin moves lower and Glenn's breath hitches.

The loud slamming of a cell door causes him to jolt upwards.

Glenn opens his eyes and sees the sun shining through the tall windows across the block. He runs a hand through his hair as he lets out a deep breath and tries to calm his pounding heart. Letting his body fall back on the piece of junk mattress beneath him he stares up and the top bunk unseeingly. He lets his other hand slowly slide across the far side of the mattress. It's warm, but not from the heat of another body. It's at least noon by now. He can tell by the heat in the air and the brightness of the light coming into his cell.

His empty cell.

He curls himself back up into a ball facing the wall. He lays there with his eyes squeezed shut, but after a few minutes he realizes he won't be able to go back to sleep. He won't be able to go back to the dream. Anger bubbles up inside him. Anger at himself for feeling the way he does. He tries to let some of the anger go he punches the mattress beneath him a few times in between half formed sobs. He lays there, his breathing shallow and uneven, as he tries to calm himself down.

His hands are shaking.

He can't do this right now.

There are things outside of his cell that need to be done, but instead of helping anyone he is lying in his cell being weak. Again. Sleeping in until noon and wallowing in self pity. No matter how upset he is there's no excuse for that. Not anymore. There are other people in this prison that need to be kept alive. Here he is only worrying about himself. He realizes how selfish he's being by only focusing on his own feelings.

Being selfish gets people killed, and he won't let that happen.

He won't let himself be weak anymore.

He throws the sheet off of himself and pushes his legs over the edge of the mattress. Taking a minute to rub his eyes he stops for a moment to put his head in his hands and take a few deep breaths before standing up. Shoving his legs into yesterday's jeans he gets dresses quickly as he banishes the dream from his mind. Without a second thought he grabs the machete leaning against the wall and heads outside.

He doesn't really talk anyone. Only a few words here and there whenever he's being directly spoken to. He avoids Daryl more than usual today. He can tell by the look Merle has been shooting in his direction that the older Dixon has noticed and that he's pleased that he finally scared the chink away from his baby brother.

He's not doing it for Merle.

He has the late watch tonight and he's glad that he does. It means he won't have to go to sleep. He doesn't have to worry about the dreams sneaking up on him. At least for tonight. It's getting to be about time for his shift so he heads towards the guard tower. He knows he's early, but he wants to get away so badly that he welcomes the extra time to himself on watch. Everyone else is asleep and the silence inside the cellblock is driving him crazy. He doesn't want to be left in there alone. Out here with something to do he can distract himself enough that he won't delve too deep into his own mind.

He breathes in the fresh night air as he steps outside. He can hear the faint growling of walkers coming from the fence, he knows it's probably a bad sign that he prefers that sound than the silence inside. He can't handle the silence now. It's not until he finally makes it to the top of the tower that he realizes that Maggie isn't coming down. She isn't leaving to go to bed even though he knows she's been up here long enough to have earned her rest. Something isn't right.

He finds out exactly what's not right when he sees how Maggie is looking at him. She doesn't say anything, and she doesn't blink. He doesn't either. They just stand there, silently watching each other. The silence between them is heavy. He'd almost rather deal with the silence inside, and the painful thoughts in his own head that comes with it, than this uneasy silence. Maggie finally looks away as she turns to reach for something on the table behind her. She pulls out a dark glass bottle and at first he thinks it's wine. When she hands it to him and he reads the label and realizes it's not.

Jameson Triple Distilled Irish Whiskey

The bottle feels heavy in his hand. He looks back up at her, but she doesn't say anything. She just leans back against the table and gives him a small smile. He looks back down at the bottle again. He rubs his thumb across the label as he remembers something he wishes he didn't. Back at the CDC when they had all felt safe and relaxed. They'd all been celebrating and drinking, so asking questions about other peoples lives before didn't seem so tough. Sharing old drinking stories. He pushes those thoughts away as he hands the bottle back to Maggie.

"I grabbed this on a run 'few weeks ago. Don't know why I did, but.. figured with how you've been actin, now was a good a time as any. I thought it might cheer ya up a bit."

Her voice sounds hopeful. Even though she has no idea what's been going on she had noticed he had been acting different lately. She was worried about him and thought that maybe a bottle of whiskey would help cheer him up. It wasn't that simple, and he knew it would only make him feel worse in the long run, but he was grateful of it anyways. He gave her a smile back and she seemed to relax.

"Ladies first."

Maggie was a talkative drinker. He was more on the quiet side, but he was content to just listen to her talk. They handed the bottle back and forth in between stories as they stared out across the yard. There was a warm feeling all through his body. He actually did feel a bit better. More than half of the bottle was gone now, and Maggie was still talking. Glenn let her, he was only half listening at this point. His head was a little too fuzzy to really pay attention to the words coming out of her mouth.

He didn't notice she had quit talking until he felt her fingers grip his cheek. She roughly turned his face to look at her. It was her own way of trying to get his attention back onto what she was saying. It wasn't a very subtle way to do it, but then again subtlety doesn't exactly work when you're drunk. When their eyes locked he noticed that she had brought her body close enough that he could feel the warmth coming off of her body. It was a familiar feeling.

He wanted that warmth again.

Her hand falls from his cheek as he starts to lean towards her. She doesn't try to stop him so he surges forward to press his lips to hers. He snakes his hands around her waist. It takes a while for her to react, but after a while she reaches out blindly to put the forgotten bottle of whiskey somewhere on the table.

The kiss is sloppy, but neither one of them care. Their hands are everywhere and it isn't long before they are grabbing at each other's clothes. Glenn pulls back and slips his hands lower to grab the back of her thighs. He quickly hauls her up and sits her on top of the table. His head falls forward and he focuses his attention on her neck. She pulls him closer to her body so he steps up between her legs and presses himself against her.

The soft noises she is making are drowned out by the thoughts swimming through his head. His mind begins to panic. He doesn't want her soft curves and breathy moans. He doesn't want her gentle hands clinging to his back. He doesn't want her. He doesn't want any of this, but he knows he needs it. Needs something other than the horrible longing ache he has become used to. He needs something other than the painful dreams that constantly remind him of what he can no longer have.

At least tonight there would be no more dreams.

He soaks in the warmth of her body. Even through his whiskey and adrenaline addled mind he knows this will only make things worse for him once it is over. Once the haze of whiskey and the heat from her body is gone. In the morning when he has to see everyone's faces and know what he's done. When he sees one face in particular. He knows he's just using her as a substitute for the warmth he is actually longing for.

He puts her out of his mind.

His thought are fill with another voice, a much deeper one. He pictures arms covered in sweat and dirt. The scratching of facial hair against his skin. He imagines the feeling of rough hands running all over his body. Shining blue eyes hidden behind a dark curtain of hair are seared into his brain.

A wave of sadness crashes through him as he realizes how weak he has really become.

"I'm sorry. Oh god, I'm so sorry." He whispers the words like a prayer against her skin.

She is so caught up in the her own feelings, of his hands on her body, that he knows she doesn't hear it. It doesn't matter, she isn't meant to hear it.

She isn't the one he's trying to apologize to.


End file.
